


Roommates

by bennyscheekbones



Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: AU, Alternate Universe - Boarding School, Johnlock - Freeform, M/M, Teenlock
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2014-05-13
Updated: 2014-06-22
Packaged: 2018-01-24 15:43:06
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 1,779
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1610483
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/bennyscheekbones/pseuds/bennyscheekbones
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>John is moving to a new boarding school: The Cobham School for Boys. Sherlock is his new roommate. Stuff happens idk.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. The Cobham School for Boys

_Chapter One_

_The Cobham School for Boys_

 

Sherlock Holmes attended The Cobham Hall School for Boys. He was bored. You see, Sherlock was incredibly smart for the tender age of 15, in fact, he was clever even by adult standards. School bored him because he had already decided on a career, and curriculum lessons didn't really prepare him for that career. He wanted to be a Consulting Detective.

The school didn't really encourage that career path. They wanted him to be something sensible, like a doctor or a lawyer. Maybe a dentist. But Sherlock knew that whatever the school said, he was going to be a Consulting Detective. Even though the job didn't technically exist yet, he knew exactly what is would include, how much pay he would expect per annum, and what kind of people would want to hire him.

Sherlock had incredible deduction skills. He could tell from a fingernail and a shirt cuff the profession the person practised in. For example, strong indentations along the bottom of the cuff of both hands suggests an author or someone who uses their keyboard frequently, and manicured nails on a well dressed man suggests a well paid inside profession, usually someone who works for someone important or wealthy. He knew which teachers' partners were cheating, who's pet had just died, who had was sucking up to teachers and who simply enjoyed learning. Sherlock had learnt these deduction skills from his brother Mycroft, who was nine years his senior. Mycroft held a minor position in the British government, and encouraged Sherlock to follow his heart. Sherlock often told Mycroft that he was talking shit, and that the heart made no decisions and was inside his body, but despite his incessant rants on the subject he was secretly glad of the support.

Mycroft had become like a father to Sherlock. Their parents had become distant when they packed both boys off to boarding school at the age of 7, and the boys' only correspondence were increasingly irregular letters. Sherlock only really enjoyed the letters because they were handwritten: they gave him plenty of opportunities to learn how to forge his parents' signatures.

“Sherlock? Sherlock? Are you even listening? What did Clarence just say?” asked his Geography teacher, Mr Alexander, whom he despised as much as the subject he taught.

“He said that due to Brazil's current economic climate, the government has been forced to sell plots of land in the Amazon rainforest to pay off its superfluous debts.” Sherlock had learnt a long time ago how to be listening in class without actually paying attention. This also worked vice versa: he had his History teacher, Mr Hall, on a semi-permanent mute.

“Well done, Sherlock.” Mr Alexander said reluctantly. “Good to see you've been listening, but can you please look at whoever is talking so that I know they have your full attention?” He figured out that Sherlock didn't listen in class right at the beginning of the year, but wasn't particularly bothered as long as Sherlock’s grades remained above national average. Because, despite his disinterest in curriculum subjects, and despite his not needing any GCSEs for his job, he needed to keep his grades high for his parents' sake. Also Mycroft said that he needed GCSEs to “fall back on,” as a “jicoratory,” measure. (Jicoratory is a word that Mycroft was very fond of using, despite his general dislike of made-up words. It means, basically, Just In Case: J-I-C-oratory.) Sherlock didn't need a back-up plan.

 

The Cobham School for Boys was a boarding school, and they provided a room with a bathroom and a coffee table between two boys. Sherlock's previous roommate, Rufus, had left the previous summer, for unknown reasons, so Sherlock was in need of a new one. Reluctant to give Sherlock _another_ roommate after the last three left the school under unforeseen circumstances, The Cobham School administration had actually built new dorm blocks to accommodate the new boys. 

Along came a time, however, when they couldn't feasibly build any more dorm blocks. So when John Watson started attending The Cobham School, they had to room him with Sherlock Holmes. 

 


	2. The New Boy

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sherlock shows John a tour of the grounds, and shows him some of his inimitable deduction skills.

Chapter Two  
The New Boy

Sherlock breezed past the mirror on the wall of his dorm on the way to meet his new roommate, and considered what he saw. Looking back at him was a skinny, black haired boy, whose nose was slightly too long and whose eyebrows were a bit sparse for his liking. He was tall, with clown feet well disguised by tailored leather shoes, and was always impeccably dressed in a pressed cotton shirt, black blazer and leather shoes. His one concession to fashion was denim jeans, with a functional black leather belt.   
The Cobham School was composed of 7 blocks: a few Dorm Blocks, the Science Block, Humanities, The Arts (which included a theatre), and one which contained English, Maths and General Classrooms. The school also owned several large playing fields, on which the boys played rugby, cricket and football. Any assemblies were held in the theatre, which got quite cramped even though there were only 300 boys at the school. Sherlock was to meet John Watson at Reception, which was situated in the same block as the General Classrooms.   
None of Sherlock’s teachers liked him, despite his academic excellence. So as he approached reception, the headmaster, who was waiting with John, gave him a look of distaste down his nose.   
Standing with the headmaster was the most beautiful man Sherlock had ever seen. Which surprised Sherlock slightly, because he had always thought he was 100% heterosexual. John was blonde, and slightly shorter than average. He wore faded jeans, a checked shirt buttoned to the top, and an olive green trench coat. But it was his face that appealed to Sherlock the most. It wasn't a face that was conventionally attractive, but for some reason he felt a deep and unexplainable interest to find out what was going on beneath it. John green and blue eyes, which radiated an inexplicable life force, darted around the clinically tidy reception. His eyes also fitted perfectly into his face. Eyes were always the first thing that Sherlock noticed about people, and you can always deduce the person's personality from their eyes.   
John's eyes told a story of struggle. He had clearly felt great loss, even at the age of 15, so the deduction that his parents had either divorced or one had died flitted across Sherlock’s unparalleled mind. His eyes darted around the room, but not in the way Sherlock’s did. He saw, but did not observe. Sherlock guessed that he had some kind of military training, because most teenage boys didn't look around the room like that when they entered it.   
His military training was also obvious in his posture. He stood very upright, with arms stiff at his sides. Also, when Sherlock had seen John walk into the foyer, he had a pronounced limp, but when he was standing still he didn't ask for a chair.  
The final thing that made it obvious to Sherlock that John was in the cadets was his haircut: shaved very close to the scalp and a consistent length.  
“Army or Air Cadets?” Sherlock asked, and smiled at the shock on John's face.  
“What?”  
“Are you in the Army Cadets, or are you in the Air Cadets?”  
“Um, Army? Did sir tell you?” John looked over at Mr Stevens, who shook his head. “Then who told you?”  
“Nobody told me. I can see it in your posture, John, your haircut, and your eyes.”  
“That's his party trick.” said Mr Stevens, “And you're going to have to get used to it. Now, Sherlock, will you show John around the school? And I trust you won't make any of your 'deductions'. He doesn’t need to know that Mr Murphy is expecting another child, or that Mrs Thackeray is cheating on her husband. Which I can assure you she is not, John.” She was, and with Mr Stevens, but Sherlock didn't want to anger him any further.   
“Ok, John, if you'd like to follow me?”

Sherlock took John on a comprehensive tour of the school grounds. There weren't any lessons on that day, because it was a Sunday, so Sherlock was able to show John all the classrooms and assembly halls. While they were walking a lap of the playing fields, Sherlock invited John to ask him any questions.   
“So how did you know that I was in the Army Cadets? You said you could see it in my eyes?”   
“When you entered the foyer, I saw you scanning the room, presumably looking for exits, even though you didn't need to. So it's automatic: an instinct.   
“I saw you limping into reception, but when you were waiting for me to arrive, you didn't ask for a chair, almost like you'd forgotten about it.   
“You stood very straight and very still. Most boys our age don’t, but you do because I assume that if you slouch during Cadets you get punished?”  
“Yeah, if we slouch we get 20 press-ups, and if we cross our arms or whatever we get another 20.”  
“Of course. And the most obvious factor: your haircut. I believe it is fashionable to have 'flicky' hair nowadays, so what with you being normal, you should have longer hair. But you have a buzz-cut because otherwise it gets very muddy, very quickly. Did I get everything?”  
“Yeah. But where the hell did you learn to do that? Do they teach it here?”  
Laughing, Sherlock replied, “Oh, no. If they did, I might start to listen in lessons. My elder brother has been teaching me the art of deduction since I began to talk. He's nine years older than me, and ever since our parents sent us to boarding school, he has been more like a father to me than my actual father.”  
“And does that not upset you?”  
“The first thing that you should learn about me, John, is that I know that caring is not an advantage. If I was upset, would my father quit work and go hunting with me? No.”  
“Well he might... People are suckers for waterworks every now and again.”  
“John, know that I respect you and your opinions, but I know my father and he would not give a solitary shit if I started crying every September when we come back to school. On a completely unrelated note, our conversation has gone rather off course. Do you have any other, non-personal questions about the school or the school grounds?”  
“No.”  
“Then we best get going: I’ll show you our lodgings. I'm sure you'll find them most comfortable.”


End file.
